The Game
by BetweenWorlds
Summary: Roger finds that he has some time on his hands while recovering from a bout with illness in the hospital. Time to think, time to remember neither of which he feels like doing.


**The Game**

**Rating:** PG-13ish

**Disclaimer:** Not my characters, but only my wonderings. Thank-you Johnathan Larson

**A Brief Note**: This is just a quick moment, one of those times that many people notice, then forget. I thought I'd capture it. Enjoy. (Well, if you want to )

* * *

It was a game that Angel had taught him. After all, when one is lying in those sterile smelling sheets, staring at the sterile looking white walls, breathing in the cold and sterile air, one gets bored- and quickly. Especially if one is not hooked up to too many pain killers, and is too out of it to think clearly, but not out of it enough to not think at all. Roger glanced at the clock, the door, then back at the clock. How could the little black hands move any more slowly! Every moment that the red hand swiped at time was a moment that he wasn't at home, curled up on the broken down couch, cuddling either his guitar or something of Mimi's. If he could just get up, move the hands of time until he reached a point when he wasn't in this fucking hospital room anymore…  
He sighed softly- Mimi had loved the game too. Eventually, when she had become too weak to play, he had helped her. Thinking of her bright eyes and knowing smile made Roger's room see a little colder, a little more empty. A memory can't hold you, or gently stroke your hand. It reminds you of better times, but sometimes, when life is coldest and you are in less than pleasant places, that simply doesn't seem to be enough.  
The sterile hospital room was one such place for Roger. Mark was _always _there, obsessively so sometimes, but even Mark had to go home to rest every once in a while. The hospital staff only let him stay so long at a time, and when he would leave, the room would get quiet. Very, very very… he looked at the clock again. Five minutes had passed. Not much at all. … very _very_ quiet. Quiet enough to cause him to start thinking. Remembering. Wondering about things he'd rather not think about. Acknowledge things he'd rather not feel. Damn this quiet. He needed some rock music. Actually- what he really needed was his guitar. Damn whoever said he couldn't have it. Damn this sterile, quiet, pasty-white hospital room! One more minute here and he'd… he'd….  
It was only a moment before he sighed. One more minute would turn into two, then three. Soon a whole ten minutes will have slipped silently but slowly by- a funeral procession of wasted time. Empty wasted time alone, chilly, and bored. "One hell of a way to die," the more cynical side taunted. But still- he needed some kind of sound in this room. Something loud and obnoxious. And that was what had brought him to the game.  
"But," he thought as he looked up at the IV bags hanging next to the bed, "at least I have the game." Slowly, using the sides of the bed for support Roger lifted his arm until it was resting on the top bar. Roger hated them from the start- "No way in hell. Only babies need them" he'd said. "We don't care" they had replied. Stupid doctors. Stupid nurses. Stupid rules about patients falling out of beds… At least they finally had use.  
"Only a few minutes now….. It shouldn't take long… come on!" He tried to hold back the expression of annoyance as it seconds passed. Damn it… what's taking so long?  
Mark walked in carrying a water bottle, the smell of anything else had made Roger feel nauseous as of late, and only took a glance at the scene before groaning, his shoulders slumping. "Roger! Not again!"  
The shrill alarm went off, causing Mark to wince and give Roger a less than pleased glare. Roger, on the other hand just grinned at his friend and gave an innocent shrug before carefully laying his arm back on the bed. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand…  
It was Angel who had first discovered the little alarms, and had taken to playing with them. Whenever the IV would get a bubble or stop flowing properly- that is, when the arm was too elevated or the line was bent- an alarm would go off, alerting the nurses that something was not going correctly. Angel loved it, and had tried to find every possible way that could make the little beepy noise start up. It was only after the second visit to the hospital that she started timing the nurses. It gave her and Collins something to do to keep their minds off of what was going on. Angel taught Mimi. Mimi taught Roger. Roger taught Mark, who then grouched at Roger for a half hour before conceding that it was amusing to do.  
_… _nine one-thousand, ten one-thousand….  
"Mr. Davis? Is your alarm again? You have _got _to stop moving around in that bed!" The nurse busted in looking hassled. She had plenty to do without having to come in here at least once or twice an hour to turn off the alarm.  
"Of course I will." The halo appeared. _Of course _he would stop playing the game.  
"Uh huh…."

At least, he decided, until I start thinking again. Until it gets too quiet.


End file.
